


The Demon King and the Elves

by supersparta333



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bondage, Chastity Device, Demon Sex, Demons, Elf Sex, F/M, MILFs, Repressed Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 19:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30093834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersparta333/pseuds/supersparta333
Summary: The Demon King has arrived at the castle of Alatria. Failing to escape, elven Princess Amira and her bodyguard Freya are captured.  What follows is a game of deception and desperation, as the Demon King exploits the feelings between them to draw them deeper and deeper into his scheme.Inspired by series such as Kuroinu and Princess Knight Catue. Probably won't be as extreme or dark, but that will probably give you an idea on where this is going.
Kudos: 2





	1. The Elven Princess is Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princess Amira, fleeing the demonic horde that sieges her home, is captured. To protect the one she holds dear, she makes a deal with the Demon King that might cost her her soul.

Princess Amira looked out the window, a mixture of fear and resignation in her eyes. From her room, she could see the distant countryside burning, the flames acting as an artificial sun to luminate the horde that approached. The castle walls of Alatria had always stood tall and proud. Now, they were crumbling, buckling under their own weight as stones were launched against them, each impact booming through the halls. She watched helplessly as a stone the size of a carriage sailed over the walls, twisting and crashing into the garden. The gate heaved inwards, clear signs of the battering ram assaulting the thick wood. Soon they would be inside the walls, then the palace, storming room after room. Her door burst open, the force rattling the window next to her. She turned and screamed.

“Princess! We must leave, now!” her protector and bodyguard from youth, Freya, stepped into the room. Her eyes were intense, and burned into Amira, a look of desperation. Her armor, which shone bright this morning, was stained with ash, soot, and black viscous fluid. Her breathing was heavy, and her shoulders sagged, her sword almost scrapping the polished floor beneath her. Amira couldn’t help but look at the blade, no sign of the metal glint shining through the dark stains that marred it.

“Princess?!” Freya jogged to her side with enough intensity that Amira feared Freya might strike her. Strong hands protected by dented gauntlets gripped her shoulders. Amira locked eyes with Freya, her bright blue eyes meeting her protector’s dull green. She nodded, and Freya took Amira’s hand, half escorting, half dragging the princess from the room. Amira took one last look around the large spacious room that she had grown up in. All the memories made, now being left behind, to avoid whatever fate the invaders would impose.

The footfalls of the two young women echoed throughout the halls as the descended to the ground floor of the castle. The servants that walked these halls before had retreated before. Commander Cleff, overseer of the garrison of the castle, had come up with a plan when the news arrived that the Demon King was advancing towards the castle. He insisted that to gather everyone together, gather the supplies needed to depart, and execute an escape would take too long. Instead, the servants, guards, and the royal family, of which there were only a few present, would form small, more mobile groups, and meet up at a safe location. Amira’s mother, Queen Sefri, had already departed. Amira’s group would be the second last to leave, with Cleff and his most loyal soldier as the last group.

Freya, however, knew better. Cleff was making a last stand, to hold off the incoming demon army as long as they could. Fight like theirs still something in the castle worth protecting, and the rest might escape. Freya had always looked up to Cleff, almost developing a father-daughter relationship between the experienced commander and the student prodigy. She shook her head. She needed to focus on getting Amira to safety.

Running, Freya and Amira traveled through the secret passage that led under the castle to the nearby fields. Frustration bubbled in her gut. Amira was slow compared to her, and she was torn between demanding she hurry and simply lifting her and trying to carry her to safety. Her train of thought was shattered by the sudden burst of sunlight that came at the end of the tunnel. She looked over the princess. Her dress, mildly ornate, was becoming dirty, as was her long platinum blonde hair. Her shoes had been kicked off earlier, her bare feet caked with dirt. Amira looked around, eyes squinting, confused. Freya did the same and saw no sign of the soldiers that were supposed to be here to protect them. She felt something was wrong, that the area was too quiet.

She took a step forward, drawing her sword. A sudden wave of fatigue struck her, her arms feeling like lead. A hard thump behind her made her turn. Amira was lying on the ground, eyes still open, but head lulling, limbs weakly shaking. “Freya….” She whispered, before her eyes closed. Freya took a step towards the young woman she had known for most of her life, and fell, her legs weak and shaky. She crawled, desperately dragging herself towards the princess she had trained her whole life to protect. Freya grasped Amira’s hand, Freya’s tanned skin looking even darker next to the silky whiteness of Amira’s. They had always been opposites, the thought intruded Freya’s mind. Amira’s hair long and radiant, Freya’s hair dark as night and short. Amira’s form slim and graceful, like a sculptor’s masterpiece. Freya’s form was lean and toned, with scars and rough skin that proved a lifetime of training.

Footsteps approached. Slow, deliberate. Freya fought, using all of her strength to raise her head. A figure, towering, clad in dark armor, approached. As Freya’s eyes closed, she thought she heard the deep rumble of a laugh.

Amira woke slowly. As her senses returned, the first thing she felt was hard stone pressed against her face. She heard movement near her, and noises she was not familiar with. Slowly, she raised herself until she was lying on her side. She was she was in a dark cell of some sorts. She was several figures standing outside the bars of her cell. Eyes adjusting to the low light, she shrieked in horror and turned her face downwards, burying it in her hands. She didn’t want to believe that she had seen what she had just saw, but the noises only made it more real. Slowly turning, she looked back at the men, just a glance, before turning away again.

She had seen correctly the first time. 5 men, eyes locked on her, were stroking their erect cocks.

“Ohhhh. Scream more for us. So fucking good.” One of them groaned, his hand moving faster up and down his shaft.

“If your not gonna look at us, why don’t you turn that ass to us?” Another taunted.

“No, come here. I want to blow my load on your pretty little face.” A third argued.

Amira turned back in shock and horror, crawling backwards towards the corner of the cell. It wasn’t much farther then she was before, but she didn’t care. She pressed herself into the corner, hands shielding her eyes as much as she could. She could not escape the sounds however, the slightly wet slapping of flesh and low grunts and heavy breath of the men next to her.

Try as she might, she could not cleanse her mind of the sight of the men, particularly their penises. She had seen male genitals before, in painting and statues, but never in person, and never in anything but a flaccid and artistic state. She remembers once when Freya practically through herself in front of Amira to keep her from seeing two dogs rutting outside the castle once, which became a point of embarrassment for the young bodyguard.

Her mind turned to a few years ago, when Amira had begun to blossom into womanhood, when she asked Freya where children had come from. This questioned had been burning in her mind for a while. Her mother had given an answer that could be summarized as ‘children are gifts from the gods, when two beings love each other enough for that love to sprout and take form’. This answer did not satisfy Amira, and she set about asking the maids and attendants, who either became bashful and refused to answer, or gave similarly flowery explanations. Amira began to worry that perhaps no one knew where children came from when she turned to Freya. Freya had always been truthful and practical in her answers to Amira’s questions. When Amira asked her suddenly, she thought for a moment, then began explaining. Freya told her that a man’s rod grows and gets hard and is pushed between the hole between a woman’s legs. They push back and forth and pour a part of themselves into the woman. That makes a baby grow inside the woman. This explanation raised more questions from Amira, which Freya answered as best she could.

That night, as Amira lay in bed, Freya’s words echoed still in her mind. Rising, she lit up the room, enough to see, but hopefully not too much to grab attention. Standing before the large mirror in her room, she undressed, looking over herself closely. She was slowly becoming a woman, her breasts and hips growing outwards, and soft light hairs growing below her navel. She cupped her chest, feeling the weight of her breasts. They had grown to the size in which they fit snuggly in her hands, perhaps the size of small apples. She wondered if they would grow more, thinking of her mother, before quickly discarding the thought. Lowering her hands to her waist, she tentatively moved her hands to her groin. Trying to arch her hips upwards, she tried to look at herself in the mirror. What she wanted to examine was not visible. Frustrated, she grabbed the mirror, gently setting it on its side. Checking one last time that the door was locked, Amira sat of on the carpeted floor, and slowly spread her legs.

She was unsure why she was so nervous to see herself. She had never been shy or ashamed of her body, though she did practice the modesty that was expected of her as a princess. Perhaps because of what Freya had told her. Knowing that this part of her body was so lusted and desired after by men made it feel vulnerable, perhaps. Perhaps knowing that this part of her was the source of children, something in her future that was rarely talked about but acknowledged as inevitable added an air of mysticism to it, like a holy relic that should not be touched or looked upon.

Finally mustering the courage, Amira lowered her eyes and saw the reflection of herself. Having never seen herself from this angle, she wasn’t sure what to expect. Her idea of what men’s genitals were was shattered by Freya’s explanation. Why would women’s genitals be any different? Looking closely, she found her core to be not much different from the depictions she had seen in art. A small round mound lightly covered in soft hair crowned two small lips that curled inwards. Reaching down, she gently parted the lips with her hands. Pink soft folds of flesh came into view. Feeling herself, she watched as her fingers slid down the folds, a fluttering pleasant feeling filling her core as she did so. Remembering Freya’s descriptions, she sought the hole she described. Finding it lower than she thought, she hesitantly pushed her fingertip against it. It resisted her entry, though the feeling was not unpleasant. Trailing her fingers back up, she intended to stop her examination for today, her curiosity not quite satisfied but her nervousness starting to get the better of her. Suddenly, her finger brushed something hard, and a sharp breath escaped her lips. Looking back at the mirror, she didn’t see anything. Moving closer, she got on her knees, crotch inches away from the mirror. Spreading the top of her lips, she saw a bead of flesh pointing outwards. Gently, she rubbed it, the same sudden jolt of pleasure pulsing through her body. She pushed against it, slowly stroking it between two fingers. The feeling was hypnotic, her body continuing the motion on it’s on as her brain went elsewhere. She wasn’t sure how long she kneeled there, rubbing herself in front of the mirror, her body on full display, when a strong knock ripped her out of her thoughts. It had been Freya, wondering if she was alright, and why she had lights on at such a late hour. Scrambling as quietly as she could back into bed, she gave an excuse, and dismissed her bodyguard. Ignoring the wetness between her legs and the dull throbbing that demanded her fingers return, she slept.

“You falling asleep?!” One of the men shouted, rudely ripping Amira from her memories. She glared at them, trying to focus on their faces rather then their cocks. One of them suddenly pushed himself against he bars. Pushing his pelvis forward, he stroked frantically before grunting loudly. White fluid shot from him, something Amira did not know could happen. She stared at the man in fascination and horror as he groaned, the spurts dwindling in strength before he backed away.

“Why don’t you come closer so I can get it in that pretty mouth of yours, eh?” he asked, sweat dripping off his forehead. The sound of a heavy door opening, and echoing footsteps jolted the men, who quickly stepped back and began adjusting themselves. A figure in dark armor stepped into view. The ornate breastplate and helmet, depicting screaming skulls and demonic runes could only mean one thing. This was the Demon King, the one who had laid siege to Amira’s home, and now had her prisoner.

“Leave us.” The figure ordered. The men hurriedly obeyed, their frantic footsteps growing quitter by the moment. The figure, almost six feet tall, stared down at the elven princess. She could not see his eyes, but she could certainly feel them, as they scanned her from top to bottom. Part of her wanted to shrink away and hide, but she knew that would accomplish nothing. He had her where he wanted her. Sitting up straight, she met his gaze as best she could.

His head lowered, his eyes trailing off of her and onto the floor between them. The white fluid still stained the stone floor. ‘Is this what goes into a woman that makes a child?’ Amira wondered, looking at it with a mixture of disgust and fascination.

“Truly…men are animals.” The figure spoke. His voice was surprising to Amira, not the booming echo she had anticipated. It certainly resonated in the armor and was lower than most elven men she had met, but it had a whispery, velvety quality to it.

“Says the one…that attacked my home…and put me in a cage.” She tensely remarked.

“Considering what the former demonic rulers would do with you, or even my own generals, I have been quite polite with you.” He rebutted. “And to continue my generous streak, I am offering you a choice regarding your fate…and the fate of your protector…”

Amira shot to her feet and walked towards the Demon King, hands gripping at the bars. “Where is she?! What have you done with Freya?!” She screamed, her mind racing.

“I assure you she is unharmed. Though, I cannot guarantee that for long…” He mused.

“What do you mean?” Amira’s voice began to shake.

“Much of my army are…husks. They lack the humanity to want or need the most basic pleasures most mortals enjoy. Food, drink, sleep, sex, it all means nothing to them. They exist only to kill, and to do so in my name. There are exceptions, of course. Those husks are what remain of the humans in my army, an army that still contains humans. Food and drink can be found and supplied in abundance. With proper management, sleep can be mitigated to an inconvenience. Sex, however, is a messier vice. The nature of my conquests supply this need, as unsavory as I find it.”

As he spoke, Amira struggled to imagine what her captor was saying. Her lack of sexual knowledge led her to not understand exactly what he was insinuating, but her gut screamed that it was horrific.

“You can spare your dear Freya from this fate however…” He continued. Amira looked up, a hope and fear in her eyes.

“Anything…please…don’t hurt her…” She pleaded.

“Then…submit to me…and become my bride.” He responded, her hand cupping her chin. She stepped back, shocked to her core. Her mother had recently brought forward the idea to her that she might begin to meet suitors soon. And in her mind, she was well aware what marriage was often followed by. Looking at this man, this monster, who ripped her home away from her and threatened her closest friend and imagining those intimacies with him made her stomach churn.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled her resolve. Locking eyes with the Demon King, she nodded. “Very well…if you swear to me that Freya will not be killed.” The Demon King nodded.

“Very good. I will have you moved to more…appropriate room, for the woman who will soon be my bride.” He informed her, with the slightest emphasis on the last word. He turned, and silently walked away.

Alone, Amira dropped to her knees. Gulping down shaky breaths, she sobbed quietly to herself.


	2. The Protector Makes a Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya awakes, with the princess no where in sight. To protect the woman she swore her life to, she makes a horrifying deal, one that will test her mettle.

Freya awoke with a start. Eyes wide, she felt herself on her back. Moving her arms to prop herself up, she found her hands immobile at the wrist. Twisting her head, she saw her wrists shacked to the table she now lay on. Moving her legs elicited the same reaction. Looking down, she saw her breastplate, dirty but intact, and the rest of her garments still in place. This was a cold comfort to Freya. She had heard the stories about what happened to those captured by the Demon King. For the men, some were slaughtered, butchered, and used as food. Others were made into slaves, working the land and building whatever twisted monument or structure their new overlord desired. For the women, they became the playthings for the armies of the Demon King. The stories of old told of massive dungeons filled with women defiled by the men and monsters at the Demon King’s command. Proverbial pits of flesh and rutting. Those that survived this torment would become breeders for the armies, for as long as their bodies held together. Perhaps it was a blessing for the women in those stories that lost their minds, as empty husks as the ones used by the Demon King.

Shaking her head, Freya dispelled this from her mind. She was alive, and not pinned to the ground by man or monster. She hoped against hope that the stories were an exaggeration, or that this Demon King was more merciful. The title had been passed from hundreds of overlords, and this new one had only recently reared its head. Whatever the case, the fact that she was unharmed and still in her armor made her extremely uneasy.

Time passed, though Freya could not tell how long. The room around her was hot and humid, something she had not paid much mind to when she first awoke but was not becoming increasingly irritating. She felt sweat begin to bead and pool on her skin, trapped under the layers of armor she wore. She felt it soaking into the fabric of her under armor, making it stick to her skin. She began to breath somewhat heavily as she lay there, awaiting her fate.

The door opened slowly, footsteps entering the room. Unable to turn her head enough to see, Freya wondered whether she should feign sleep or make it obvious she was awake. Her discomfort continued to mount as her unknown company came into view. A thin man with pale skin hunched over a nearby table, muttering to himself. A drop of sweat ran into Freya’s eye, causing her to wince and turn her head, her eyes squeezed shut. When the opened, the man was looming over her, dark black eyes boring into hers. Freya’s insides jumped, but she tried to show no reaction, instead staring back at her captive.

The man stepped away, picking up something from the nearby table. Freya squirmed, trying to inch away from whatever the man wanted to do. A loud snipping noise, another, and she felt the bottom of her breastplate become loose. Large sheers came into view and became uncomfortably close to Freya’s neck. She could practically feel the cold metal against her skin as more straps were cut. The man grabbed the breastplate, now nothing to hold it on to her, and threw it aside. It clattered noisily off the stone floor. A twinge of anger burned in Freya’s gut; the armor gifted to her by the family that took her in being thrown aside so callously. This fire was extinguished as she felt metal against her stomach. The shears were primed to begin cutting her under shirt away. She struggled, wriggling as much as she could. The man shushed her, a strong hand pinning her down. The cuts were slow, her tormentor taking his time. His eyes his drank in every inch of the young dark elf’s flesh. Reaching her chest, he moved swiftly, removing her garment with one swift cut.

Only thin chest wrappings protected Freya’s chest. Seemingly surprised and irritated by this unexpected delay, the man threw aside the shears and climbed onto the table. He grabbed a fistful of the fabric around her breasts and pulled. Pain briefly shot thought Freya’s body as she was pulled harshly upwards until the fabric gave and tore. Her breasts, larger than one might expect at first glance, bounced as her torso fell back onto the table.

The man dipped down after her, his mouth looking around the peak of her left breast. Freya gasped, trying to break free. She felt the pressure against her skin as the man sucked her breast, teeth scraping lightly against the soft skin. Another hand gripped her right breast harshly, fingers sinking into the flesh. She bucked, crying out and fighting as best she could. Strain as she might, the shackles held. The hold on her chest became painful as the man on top of her fought to pin her down. He pressed himself into her, grinding his knee into her crotch.

Suddenly, the man stopped, and dismounted her quickly. Reaching to the nearby table, Freya gasped, drawing deep breaths. She could feel her skin beginning to bruise from the man’s assault and feel his saliva on her skin. Her attention was ripped back to the man as something was jammed into her mouth, her eyes shooting open. She gagged and tried to bite whatever had been pushed into her mouth, to no avail. She took a strained breath, and suddenly felt a wave of drowsiness overcome her. She fought to stay awake, horrified at what might happen to her while she was helpless. Her vision becoming tunneled, she heard footsteps approaching.

She awoke slowly, almost peacefully this time. She was lying on something softer than the table, if only barely. “Rest well?” a voice called. Turning quickly, she saw the figure from before, when her and Amira had tried to escape. He was shorter, perhaps half the height she had seen before, but still just as imposing.

“Where is Princess Amira?” She demanded, her voice cold. Her blood boiled as she stared at the Demon King.

“Safe, I assure you. And unharmed.” He responded. The casualness in his voice fanned the flames that raged inside Freya.

“Let me see her. Now!” She rose from the cot, taking a step towards him. She fell, barely catching herself. She was still naked from the waist up, and her legs were now bare, but something was still around her waist. Sitting, she found a metal contraption hooked to her waist. It hugged her hips tightly, and she felt it cross between her legs. The material was metallic, with a soft fabric lining on the inside. It covered her vagina and ass, if only barely. The skin at the edge was the unmistakable soft flesh of genitalia, but the majority was obscured by this device.

“What the fuck did you put on me?” She asked, the slightest hint of fear entering her voice. She pulled at the device, trying to slip her fingers under the shiny metal.

“Protection, for your own sake, I assure you.” He answered matter-of-factly. She ignored him, her efforts becoming more desperate. “Many of the more monstrous members of my army are whipped into a frenzy, and many of the women at our disposal simply can’t keep up. What do you think would happen if they found out I had a dark elf in my possession?”

Freya stopped, the blood in her veins turning from fire to ice. “No…” she pleaded, knowing she had nothing to bargain with and nothing to stop him if he decided to throw him to the horde.

“I will give you a choice. Someone needs to take the edge off my soldiers. Not all of them at once, though. Simply the ones that have earned my favor.”

“And you want me to let them fuck me, is that it?” She asked, already sure of the answer. She felt sick to her stomach, knowing that she was going to be used like a toy for gods know what.

“That…or Amira. One of you two will need to be of service. I offered a reward to those who fought valiantly. The only ones subduable are you and the princess.” He explained. Freya’s eye’s shot open, her mouth dropping open, and she stared at the Demon King. She rose, trying to run to the cell bars. The chastity device locked onto her disrupted her ability to walk, forcing her to awkwardly throw herself across the cell. Barely making it, she pulled herself up the cold metal bars, staring daggers at the overlord standing before her.

“Fuck you…FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!” she screamed, shaking the bars. A low laugh emitted from the Demon King.

“Perhaps another time. But for now, I need your answer. You are sworn to protect Amira, no matter what, are you not?” He taunted. Freya shook all over, from fury and of overwhelming fear. Her heart screamed to protect Amira, to fulfill her sword duty. Her body screamed to refuse, to escape and run, to never look back.

“I’ll do it…” she whispered, her head hanging down.

“You will?” he asked, Freya could practically see the twisted smile under his helm.

“I will. I’ll let you and your men use my body. Just don’t hurt Amira. Don’t let your men lay a finger on her. I’ll do anything you order if you promise me this.” She knew this was stupid. She knew that even if he gave his word to these conditions, there was nothing keeping him from throwing Amira to his men and letting them destroy her.

“A bold proposal. Anything, you say? Well, as long as you hold up your end of the bargain, I shall hold up mind.” He took a step back from her cell.

“What is this? Why is really on me?” She demanded, pulling at the device locked on her once again.

“A double-edged sword. A curse disguised as a blessing.” He answered, walking away. Silence filled the cell as Freya awaited whatever may come.

Freya’s eyes shot open as voices approached. After some time, and no immediate sign of the Demon King’s, or anyone else’s, return, she had laid down on the cot, gathering what little strength she could for what would come. Footsteps, several sets, approached the cell. She didn’t want to turn, didn’t want to face what was about to happen. The cell door creaked open, and footsteps rang out as someone, or something, ran to her. Several rough hands grabbed her arms and torso, dragging her off the cot and throwing her into the center of the room. She was jerked onto her knees by her arms and hair. Several men, humans, surrounded her. Two of them held her arms off to the side and forced her to face them, fingers digging into her short black hair. She gritted her teeth as she glared at them.

“Oh? Looks like we might have a fighter here.” One of the men mocked as he grabbed her chin forcefully. Looking around, she counted five men around her. The ones not holding her had their cock out, half erect and growing as they eyed her naked body. A hand from behind gripped her right breast hard, kneading the soft flesh that spilled out of his hands. She had always hated her larger breasts, wishing since their growth for a smaller, flatter chest that didn’t require binding to fit into a breastplate.

“Open your mouth.” The man holding her chin ordered. “The wetter it is, the easier it will be later.”

“I’m sure she already knows that. Dark elves are all whores, spreading their legs for men and monsters alike.” Another man mocked.

“Well in that case…” One of the men holding her arm pushed her down. She felt rough hands pin her shoulders to the unforgiving cold of the stone floor, leaving her hips high in the air. “I’m gonna fuck this little whore’s hole right away. Not a fan of sloppy seconds.” The men laughed around her as she lay there. Every fiber of her being told her to fight, to resist, but she knew it was hopeless. She couldn’t fight them all off, and if she did, how would she escape? She didn’t even know where she was being held.

One last thought crept into her mind. If she fought back, if she denied these men her body, they’d be doing this to Amira. With this thought in mind, Freya squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the violation. Her hips were jerked back harshly, rough fingers digging into the flesh at the edge of the device. The man started pulling harder, thrashing her around like a doll. The men around her watched her breasts sway and bounce.

“Come on, get the fucking thing off.” A voice complained.

“I’m trying!” the man behind her barked back. “Stand her up. It’s fucking stuck!” Freya was jerked to her feet. A man grabbed each side, trying to pull it down her legs. The metal bit harshly into her hips and thighs, causing Freya to cry out. She squirmed and kicked.

“Forget it. Out turns up soon. And she still has one hole to fuck.” She was bent forward at the waist, a cock inches in front of her face. Hands latched themselves to her, feeling her back and chest and stomach and thighs. Someone still fiddled with the device, fingers just barely able to touch the soft flesh of her most sensitive parts. Her attention was brough back to the cock in front of her as the man it belonged to grabbed her hair and pressed the tip against her lips.

The flesh was hotter then she thought it would be, the engorged head running across her lips and onto her cheek. He grabbed the shaft, pushing it firmer against her mouth. She glared at him, and slowly parted her lips. He pushed his way in, filling her mouth. She choked slightly, fighting to urge to bite down.

“She’s got a good mouth at least.” The man told the others. She began to feel them rubbing their dicks against her skin, against her ass and sides. One of them grabbed her wrist and brought her hand to his cock, thrusting himself in her hand. Another followed suit. The man gripping her hair yanked her closer, the tip of his rod hitting the back of her throat. She gagged, drawing air in hard from her nose. She bobbed her head back, then forward, not far enough to gag again, but enough to keep the man from choking her. She tried to block out the grunts and swears from the men around her, using her like a toy, or the sounds she herself was making. The gasps and moans that were out of her control as she fought for air. 

The man ramming her mouth groaned deeply, gripping the back of her head. He thrust hard, burying himself past her lips. She gagged hard, the sound making her face grow hot. He thrust again, faster and faster. She tried to pull away, to no avail. She felt the tip of the cock swell and pulse before the man came in her mouth with a long groan. A salty taste flooded her mouth as she chocked, the tip still pressing almost against the back of her throat. Finally, slowly, he pulled out. Sucking air through her nose, she coughed as the cum in her mouth swirled, threatening to slide down her throat. With her mouth unoccupied, she turned her head downwards, spitting as hard as she could. The semen splattered to the floor, strands hanging off her irritated lips.

“Not a swallower, are you? Well, we’ll see if we can change that.” One of the men commented before she felt herself falling. She landed on her back roughly, the wind knocked out of her. She felt the men descend on her. Cocks filled her hands as one mounted himself on her stomach. Gripping her breasts roughly, he pushed them together, forcing his dick between the gloves of flesh. Another raised her legs, thrusting his cock between her closed thighs. The last pulled her head back and forced her mouth open, ramming his length into her mouth. The tip rubbed against her tongue and into her throat. She was trapped, barely able to move, forcing the man in her mouth to fuck her mouth himself. Freya felt the pinpricks of tears in her eyes, her face growing scarlet from strain and humiliation. Her saliva flowed past her lips and up her face, smearing against the sack of the man in her mouth as he forced himself further down her throat.

“Take my cum, you slut.” A voice groaned, the pressure on her chest increasing. Fingers dug into her flesh as her breasts were groped, the friction of the rod thrusting between them beginning to burn. He came, splattering cum across her chest, neck, and chin, the furthest of it hitting her lips. The next to cum was the one pleasuring himself with her thighs, blasting his load across her toned stomach. The last three came one after another, the one in her mouth first. He withdrew, stroking himself harshly over her for a moment before painting her face white. She squeezed her eyes shut; the liquid so hot it felt like it was burning. Before she could open her eyes, she heard more groaning, as more cum hit her face from the ones that had forced her into hand jobbing them. Slowly, she raised her hand, weakly wiping the cum off from around her eyes. She looked around, the men slowly dressing themselves.

“Don’t worry. Their will be some more around soon to keep you company.” One of them taunted. He pulled out a small waterskin and tossed it onto her lap. “Drink. You’ll need it.”

She watched them leave, and slowly opened the water skin. She drank it in large gulps, hoping to rid herself of the sick feeling that had come to her stomach. It helped, if only a little. She used the rest of the water trying to wash the proof of her violation off her skin, only able to clean off her face. She could still feel it, the hot stickiness clinging to her skin. She could feel the phantom sensations of the hands and tongues and cocks against her skin. She tried to deny the dampness that had grown between her legs. It was sweat or left from the tongues of one of the men as they tried to get between her legs, she told herself. She dragged herself to the cot, and laid down, drifting off to sleep, as long she could.


End file.
